Full in the Prince's passage hills of sand,
And dang'rous flats, in secret ambush lay,
Where the false tides skim o'er the cover'd land,
And seamen with dissembled depths betray.
The wily Dutch, who, like fall'n angels fear'd
This new Messiah's coming, there did wait,
And round the verge their braving vessels steer'd,
To tempt his courage with so fair a bait.
But he, unmov'd, contemns their idle threat,
Secure of fame whene'er he pleas'd to fight:
His cold experience tempers all his heat,
And inbred worth doth boasting valour slight.
Heroic virtue did his actions guide,
And he the substance not th' appearance chose:
To rescue one such friend he took more pride
Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes.
But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound,
Rupert and Albemarle together grow,
He joys to have his friend in safety found,
Which he to none but to that friend would owe.
The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supply'd,
Now long to execute their spleenful will :
And, in revenge for those three days they try'd. Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sun stood still.
Thus reinforc'd, against the adverse fleet,
Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way;
With the first blushes of the morn they meet,
And bring night back upon the new-born day.
His presence soon blows up the kindling sight,
And his loud guns speak thick like angry men:
It seem'd as Slaughter had been breath'd all night,
And Death new-pointed his dull dart agen.
The Dutch too well his mighty conduct knew,
And matchless courage, since the former fight;
Whose navy still a stiff-stretch'd cord did shew,
Till he bore in and bent them into flight.
The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends
His open side, and high above him shows;
Upon the rest at pleasure he descends,
And, doubly harm'd, he double harms bestows.
Behind, the Gen'ral mends his weary pace,
And sullenly to his revenge he sails:
So glides some trodden serpent on the grass,
And long behind his wounded volume trails.
So glides, &c.] From Virgil.
"Quum medii nexus extremaeque agmina caudae
"Solvuntur; tardosque trahit finus ultimus orbes.
Th' increasing sound is borne to either shore,
And for their stakes the throwing nations fear:
Their passions double with the cannons' roar,
And with warm wishes each man combats there.
Ply'd thick and close as when the fight begun,
Their huge unwieldy navy wastes away:
So sicken weaning moons too near the sun,
And blunt their crescents on the edge of day.
And
now reduc'd on equal terms to fight,
Their ships like wasted patrimonies show,
Where the thin scatt'ring trees admit the light,
And shun each other's shadows as they grow.
The warlike Prince had sever'd from the rest
Two giant ships, the pride of all the main,
Which with his one so vigorously he press'd,
And flew so home, they could not rise again..
Already batter'd, by his lee they lay;
In vain upon the passing winds they call;
The passing winds thro' their torn canvas play,
And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall.
Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light,
Dreadful as day let into shades below;
Without grim Death rides barefac'd in their sight,
And urges ent'ring billows as they flow.
When one dire shot, the last they could supply,
Close by the board the Prince's main-mast bore:
All three, now helpless, by each other lie,
And this offends not, and those fear no more.
So have I seen some fearful hare maintain
A course, till tir'd before the dog she lay;
Who, stretch'd behind her, pants upon the plain,
Past pow'r to kill, as she to get away.
With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey;
His warm breath blows her flix up as she lies;
She trembling creeps upon the ground away,
And locks back to him with beseeching eyes.
The Prince unjustly does his stars accuse,
Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on.
For what they to his courage did refuse
By mortal valour never must be done.
This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes,
And warns his tatter'd fleet to follow home,
Proud to have so got off with equal stakes,
Where 't was a triumph not to be o'ercome. †
+"Quos optimus fallere et effugere est triumphus.
Dryden].
The General's force, as kept alive by flight,
Now not oppos'd, no longer can pursue;
Lasting till Heav'n had done his courage right;
When he had conquer'd he his weakness knew.
He casts a frown on the departing foe,
And sighs to see him quit the wat'ry field:
His stern fix'd eyes no satisfaction show,
For all the glories which the fight did yield.
Tho', as when fiends did miracles avow,
He stands confess'd ev'n by the boastful Dutch;
He only does his conquest disavow,
And thinks too little what they found too much.
Return'd, he with his fleet resolv'd to stay;
No tender thoughts of home his heart divide;
Domestic joys and cares he puts away;
For realms are households which the great must guide
As those who unripe veins in mines explore,
On the rich bed again the warm turf lay,
Till time digests the yet imperfect ore,
And know it will be gold another day:
So looks our Monarch on this early fight,
Th' essay and rudiments of great success,
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